


share the dark

by withoutwords



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Infidelity, M/M, Panic Attack, Soft Ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 14:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20009608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwords/pseuds/withoutwords
Summary: No one’s around to care that he’s having a drink with Ben Mitchell.Only Callum.Callum’s done caring.





	share the dark

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the anon who sent me these prompts at tumblr: "please dont walk out that door" and "stay here the night". I may have tweaked the first a little.
> 
> also thank you to calhighway who is just a genuine, lovely person and a huge support for my writing. I hope you both like this x

Callum keeps forgetting how to breathe. Sitting at his desk, or standing in the shower, or waiting for a coffee at the cafe - he just forgets. Is it in and out, or out and in - is it long or short or both or none? Is he overthinking it or not thinking enough?

He can’t remember. He keeps forgetting.

He - he - he -

“Whoah, Callum,” a voice rings out as Callum’s trying to catch his breath around the corner from home. He realises it’s Ben, his hands on Callum’s shoulders, his hand on Callum’s face making him look. “You alright? Callum?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Callum says, nudging him off.

“You don’t look good.”

“I am, I just - out of breath.”

“You go jogging in your funeral suit?”

Callum laughs a little at that one, letting the wall support him and finding his feet. He can feel the ground again, feel the cool of the bricks on his back. “Thanks, I was just …”

“Panicking?”

“I donno.”

“It looked like it.”

It probably was. He used to get it all the time - but that was different. That was the army, that was war. He was allowed to panic about all that. “Maybe. I should - I haven’t finished work.”

“Right, like Jay’s gonna care. Let’s go upstairs, make a brew.”

Callum doesn’t bother to argue. Whit’s gone into town until tomorrow - design stuff, wedding stuff, Callum can’t keep track - and Stuart’s probably busy with Rainie. No one’s around to care that he’s having a drink with Ben Mitchell.

Only Callum.

Callum’s done caring.

“You got Black, Green, Chai,” Ben says, rifling through the cupboard while Callum collapses onto the sofa. “Uhhh, something else that ain't got a label and smells a little weird.”

Callum huffs. “There’s beer in the fridge.”

“Should you be …”

“Seriously?”

Ben shrugs and abandons the tea, grabbing the sixpack from the fridge. Callum feels suddenly exhausted and done, grabbing the remote to flip through channels, thanking Ben when he passes him an open bottle.

“You gonna tell me what that was about?”

Callum doesn’t. He stops on an old episode of  _ The Bill _ and ignores Ben’s muttering protests, the two of them curled up on the couch and watching. They make their way through the rest of the beer, and then Callum goes to find more, and eventually they’re three episodes into the show and arguing about how the storylines will end.

“I fucking told you!” Ben yells, when the killer is exposed, throwing a bottle top at Callum. Callum just laughs at him, kicking him with socked feet. “You’re shite at this, never become a bobby will ya.”

“Imagine if I were? I’d have half the town nicked by now!”

Ben laughs, and maybe that’s what does it. The way his head’s thrown back, the way his throat’s exposed - the way he’s vulnerable to Callum in a totally new way. Whatever it is, Callum just drops his bottle and crawls over and between Ben’s legs to get to him.

It’s been so long since last time, Callum had started to forget what it felt like. The way Ben gasps and grunts into his mouth - the sharp edge to his fingers when he digs them into Callum’s back. He pulls back to look at Callum properly, shocked and unsure but obviously wanting.

Callum just kisses him again.

“Bed,” Ben finally grunts, getting out from under Callum and pulling him to the bedroom. They trip over themselves as they go, and Callum’s too turned on and pliable and  _ new at this _ to argue when Ben pushes him onto the bed. 

“You sure?” Ben asks huskily as he pulls at Callum’s pants, and Callum just nods frantically down at him, gasping when Ben gets his hard cock free of his boxers.

That night at the park had been so different. Desperate and awkward and so, so fast that even though Callum was the one to leave - even though Callum was the one who said never again - he’d wished they would the minute he’d come. His spunk all over Ben’s hand, Ben’s all over his; he’d wanted to go again right there.

He just wouldn’t let himself.

“Please,” he hears himself choke out, sprawled out on the bed and still fully clothed, Ben’s warm breath teasing at the head of his dick. Ben scoffs at him, then takes him in his mouth; one wet sucking move that makes Callum call out to the ceiling, digging his hands into the bedsheets.

It makes sense that Ben’s good at this. He’s never been shy about his conquests. And Callum’s thought about it plenty, all the things they could do; he’d just never been able to imagine this. The sizzling pleasure and the crackling need - the white hot sensation shooting from his cock and up his spine and out to every hair on his body making them stand on end.

He couldn’t have imagined how Ben grabs Callum’s hand and brings it to his head, stopping his movements just long enough to say,

“Touch me,” so quietly, before taking Callum into his mouth again.

Callum groans and lets his hips go, just a little, and tugs at Ben’s hair. He let's himself look too - at the hollowing out of Ben's cheeks and the clench of muscles in his shoulders and his arms. He's beautiful when he's smiling or angry or teasing - he's beautiful right now.

It only takes a few more sucks, the slightest of thrusts, and before Callum can warn Ben he’s coming down his throat, gasping and begging and falling apart. 

Callum’s still getting his wits about him when Ben joins him, wiping at his mouth before kissing Callum again. It’s so heady,  _ visceral _ , how Callum can taste himself on Ben’s tongue. How Ben smirks at him like he enjoyed it as much as Callum did.

“What about?” Callum asks blearily, going for Ben’s belt, but Ben just laughs and rolls on top of him.

“S’alright. We got time. I mean, unless you want me to go?”

“No,” Callum says, a little too quickly, flipping them over again so Ben’s on his back. “I mean - Whit’s not due back til tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Ben says softly, reaching up to touch at Callum’s face, thumb grazing his cheek. Callum turns his head to take it in his mouth, enjoying the little gasping noise Ben makes when he does. “One condition.”

“What?”

“Tell me what happened before. The panic.”

Callum doesn’t move. If anything, he can’t. The old Ben would have made some snide remarks, the way he did when he saw Callum hitting himself with a bottle. But this Ben cares. This Ben gets it. “I - I’ve got a lot going on. With the wedding, and Stuart…”

“Stuart?” Ben repeats, eyes going dark. “What’s he done?”

“What’s he done?” Callum says disbelievingly. “He beat you to a pulp because he knows I like you. Plus he follows me around like a bad fucking smell. I just feel so - so watched, y’know? Like everyone’s just waiting for me to snap.”

Ben just looks at him for a moment, eyes coasting over every inch of Callum’s face. He touches it again with a finger, the bridge of his nose, his mouth, his jaw, his chin. “You like me?”

Callum scoffs. “Course I do.”

“Why’d you tell Stuart that, and not me?”

“I donno. It was stupid. I was so confused with pride, and my dad, and I thought Stuart was on my side with everything you know?”

“Yeah.”

“But he weren’t. He … he hurt you and … I never wanted that. Even back before - I never wanted you to feel like that again. Hated. Attacked. You don’t deserve it Ben, you don’t.”

Ben kisses Callum now, pulling him down and opening his mouth and putting his arms around him. He’s so strong, and warm, and comforting, and it’s the most peaceful Callum’s felt in a really long time.

“I don’t wanna make this worse for you,” he says, searching Callum’s eyes. “We can be friends, yeah? I can leave now, and we can talk when ya want, just … I don’t have to complicate this for ya.”

“You complicated this when you walked into the Vic and shook my hand. You complicate this just by being you. That ain’t your fault.”

“Callum - ”

“I mean it,” Callum says, and that’s what’s been missing, that’s why he’s been so panicked. He never says what he means. He never does what he wants. But with Ben, he finally can. “Please don’t go. Stay here tonight. Be with me.”

“I want that. A lot.”

“Then  _ stay _ . We ain’t ever gonna be  _ just friends _ . You know that.”

“I know,” Ben says, and then he’s kissing Callum again, slow and close mouthed and bringing them together. Chest to chest and thigh to thigh and cock to cock (too many clothes between them) - all the pieces slotting together.

Callum remembers how to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr.](http://thefancyspin.tumblr.com)


End file.
